Junos' Halo Story
by Tortuga
Summary: A Halo fanfiction written by me. A trilogy of short stories, based on roles that I thought were unappreciated or too good to pass up in the Halo universe.


Verifying Security… Verified. Accessing "UNSC LTDH LOG"… "UNSC LTDH LOG" Found. Opening… 

October 2, 2552 

0900 

_Lieutenant Devon G. Holloway _

_Etta Sigma Gamma_, _Alexandria_ _System_

My Dropship D-77 Troop Carrier "Pelican" just received the spare parts she needed to become "combat ready". And by that I mean she can fly. That's about it. There are still some Anvil IIs and Ardent Vs left in her pods, but after the Covenant came last week I've had to be sparing with them. Thankfully, the 70 millimeter chain gun is in working order, and can deal with most ground and air-based threats.

After _The Osier Cloud_, our Light Cruiser in the atmosphere, left to limp back to the outpost closest to here, supplies are limited. Food isn't a problem, since the _Cloud_ kindly left almost her full compliment of rations for us, taking instead all of the food that we had hunted and collected over the past month. Jerks. They said they'd be back soon, within a week at most, and we talked to them on Tuesday, but we all feel a little stranded out here. Strictly speaking, our platoon, a group of four squads, each made up of four fire-teams, was assigned as 'guard-detail' for the scientific research team, trying to find new and exciting life forms. So far they've only found old and boring ones. We were sent out here to keep an eye on the scientists, since we are on the edge of Covie controlled space. The Covenant are a collection of different alien species, all hell-bent on achieving what they call the 'Great Journey'. No one really knows the details of it, but it seems to involve wiping out the human race, so The UNSC is against it. The UNSC is the United Nations Space Command, but most people call them the Marines. Strictly speaking they aren't, but the Marines were the ones that teamed up with the navy in the war of 1942.

But that aside, I think that I should take the Pelican out to go do a sweep of the area again and calibrate the weapons systems. I also want to practice dust-offs, drop-offs, re-supply, and vehicle drop-offs and recovery. So far I am proficient with the M41, Light Anti-Aircraft Gun equipped, "Warthog" Light Recon Vehicle, but the M12G1 Light Anti-Armor Vehicle, which has a magnetic Gauss-Rifle equipped, is a little trickier. This is because the magnetic grippers can sometimes be thrown off by the magnets inside the gun. The Mongoose All Terrain Vehicle is easier to carry by far, because it is smaller and lighter. On the flip side, the M808B Scorpion Main Battle Tank is very difficult. Why? It's a sixty-six ton tank! But the look on both the Covenant and the Marine faces makes it all worth it.

And the replacement parts for the tail section came included in the spare parts, so I can continue to lug supplies, troops, and vehicles to wherever the commander tells me to. The tail of the aircraft is really amazing, while I'm on the topic. It has multi-purpose grippers that can carry vehicles, up to eight supply pods, pill shaped pods that contain appropriate materials for the mission, or a 'squad pod', the compartment designed to extend the Pelican's ten man capacity, not counting the pilot, co-pilot, or the Flight-Technician. It can carry enough weapons to properly equip thirty men, and hold its own in a fight, even though it was intended as a troop transport. It has an EMP protected hull, and small arms fire does little to nothing except scratch the paint.

It was also designed as an atmospheric transport, since the only other way to get people down to the surface was to drop them in pods that had a relatively bad survival rate. They were hot and inaccurate, so much that you prayed that you were never deployed anywhere near a lake, otherwise it was likely that you would drown just after you opened the hatch. Some people used to compare them to the old HALO (High Altitude Low Opening) jumps, but others said that they were HANS (High Altitude No Survival). Also inside the Pelican's troop bay are at least two fully-stocked medical kits, and all of the crew are required to know how to use them. But there is little call to use them, since most of the injuries are bruises from Physical Training, or a scientist accidentally sprained something, or cut themselves. We've only had one serious incident, and that was during the Covenant attack.

The attack last week went pretty well for the UNSC and it was basically a slaughter down here, because the Covenant must've thought that the ship in orbit was only scanning the planet. But there was a new kind of dropship that I have never seen before. It had really good armor plating, so that's why I don't have many missiles. Got 'em eventually though. We used the Pelicans' jammers to stop them from telling the Covie ship in orbit to send reinforcements. We decided to name the mystery ships 'Phantoms', because they were extremely silent for a dropship. The space battle apparently wasn't as smooth. Two scout cruisers, pitted against each other did massive damage, but we won in the end. _Barely_. 

Lieutenant Devon Holloway looked up from his computer and viewed his temporary office, which had been his home for the last month. It was a tent, with mosquito netting for doors and windows, and aluminum tent poles holding the ceiling up. This was also partially assisted by the tree Devon had chosen to help hold his tent up. He saved his work and went outside to help with the installation of the parts he received from the quartermaster.

His co-pilot, Corporal Sam Robinson, looked up when Devon exited his tent and started walking towards where she stood.

"Finally gave in to guilt, huh, sir?" She said.

"No, just finished my Log entry"

"Of course," Came the reply accompanied by an eye-roll. "Could you give me a hand with the gripper plug sir? I need it cleaned, while I clean the socket." She tossed him a cleaning brush.

"Absolutely. Where's Tom?" Asked Devon, while dipping the tip of the brush in the cleaning solution.

"Making sure that our squad is ready for deployment."

"Why? We got a training assignment? I didn't receive a memo."

"Well, Lieutenant," She began, "He said that he saw what you were typing, and reported that you wanted to go train."

"What? That little…" Devon said, placing the brush and plug aside.

"Relax; you know he only wants to impress you, sir."

"Yeah, but there was confidential stuff that only Commander Igneous, Sergeant Anderson, and myself should know. When did he run off to tell the others?"

"About five minutes ago."

"Okay, then he shouldn't have seen what I wrote." Devon swore at himself in his head. I knew I should have put the heavy canvas flap down over the windows. News that we were almost wiped out in space can have a certain, _demoralizing_ effect. Oh well. These Flight-Technicians are too… Well, flighty. "Can you finish up alone?"

"Yes sir." Sam said curtly.

"I'll be back soon." And with that, he left to go to the squad barracks.

When he arrived, he saw that the squad was already suited up for a training exercise.

"I anticipated what you would say, and suited up Squad Alpha, sir. Yep, got them ready for a training exercise. Like, I dunno, dust-off that sort of thing…"Said Private First-Class Tom Reton.

"Er, yes, very um, good. At ease, Private. Well since you all are suited up, let's get to the ships. The clock starts NOW!"

The simulated emergency load up went well, considering that when they got in, they were forced out by an angry co-pilot in the middle of repairs, and forced to wait five minutes after the repairs were completed because they trod on her jacket. They walked back to their barracks and were told to read some books or something. Then Lt. Devon crept around the barracks and blew a whistle to restart the exercise. Most threw down their books, and ran, but a few carefully put them face down so as not to lose their places.

The Marines ran through the armory building, getting the basic package for combat. A Rifleman gets a Battle Rifle and Sub-Machine Gun as their sidearm and is given four frag grenades and is told to grab four ration packs, and head to the Pelican for other supplies. A Long Rifleman gets the same, but with a Sniper Rifle, and a M6-C Magnum, the toned down version of the M6 Pistol as their sidearm. Each specialization gets their own basic package, and these are stored in different areas of the armory to avoid confusion when grabbing their equipment.

Then they headed out of the Armory to the Landing Pad, only a hop, skip, and a jump away, and leaped up into the back of the pelican. The ten troops sat down, and buckled themselves in, and began checking their gear. Then Sergeant Anderson hammered twice on the metal door separating the 'Troop Scoop' from the cockpit to tell the flight crew they were ready, and the Flight-Technician pounded on the door once to confirm the message was received, and then Devon eased the Pelican up off the ground.

The Pelican is controlled by two throttles, and the throttles are designed to twist up and down, akin to a motorcycle throttle. Twisting the throttle will change the angle of the Pelican's two main engines, and secondary rear engines. The throttles are situated on a narrow channel that changes the power output of the engine. Also, there are buttons on the bottom of the throttles to do various tasks. One will kill that engine, and another is a macro to reverse the engine without having to twist the throttles around. There are five of these on each throttle. There are two control systems, one for the pilot, and another for the co-pilot. There are very few instruments inside the cockpit because most of the information is displayed in the Plexiglas eye-shield that the pilot and co-pilot have affixed to the helmets they wear.

Devon clicked the finger-switch that closed the bay door, normally used only when they were entering or leaving the atmosphere but he personally liked it closed, and turned toward the other side of the base where the Vehicle Depot was. While Devon flew, Sam checked all channels of chatter and also checked to make sure the thermal scope and the NV scope were functioning properly. This is normally done on the ground, but since this is a 'simulated emergency' they had to do this in the air. Sam then called the Depot and had them bring a Gauss-Hog out and prep it for pickup. This meant checking the ammo, gassing it up, and bringing it away from all other vehicles.

Once they arrived, Devon decided that they had enough time in this 'emergency' to attach the 'Hog by hand. He told Sam to "Hold 'er steady" and hit the door release button. Then he undid his safety harness, and turned to leave the cockpit. There was a small area between the pilots' seats and the bay door, and this is where the Flight-Technician sat, advising the pilot and co-pilot on the tactical information as it came up from home. As he passed by, Devon tapped his shoulder to get his attention, and gave him a thumbs-up, to show Tom that what he did earlier was okay. He beamed back at him.

Devon slid the door open, and stepped out into the bay. He walked to the end, and attached his safety harness, just in case, and jumped the three feet onto the hood of the LRV. The car bounced a little, but stabilized, and then he reached up and pulled four of the magnetic gripper plugs from the sockets, and led them down to the car. He then placed them on four corners on the vehicle. Then he pulled down his wireless microphone from above his eyes, and yelled for Tom to bring plugs 2, 4, 5, and 7 up _slowly_. He did so and Devon stepped off the hood of the car when he got close enough. Then he turned around and watched as the 'Hog was attached to the magnetic strip running between the two rows of four plugs, and the four smaller ones let go. He turned towards the cockpit and punched a button near the opening in the bay and the bay door slid up, muffling the noise of the engines a little.

"Good job Tom, but a little faster next time, eh? And Sam, Rock-Steady."

"Aw, shucks, Cappy. T'warn't nothin'." Sam said in a fake southern accent.

Devon then walked to his pilot's seat and retook control of the helm. He always liked the feel of the Pelican after it picked up a Warthog. It added inertia to the ship, making it slide. He enjoyed sliding around corners and then goosing it. He was flying over a mountain range when he heard a beep on the console behind him.

"Uh, sir?"

"Yes, Private?"

"We have unconfirmed thermal readings on the scope." Said Tom, his panic edging his voice.

"Could just be deer, Tom…" Devon replied, trying to ignore a bad feeling boring though the back of his skull.

"Well, sir, unless deer look like the size of a dime from a quarter of a mile away and give off strong electrical readings…"

"Are we sure it's not one of our patrols?"

"We're the only ones booked." Said Sam.

_Damn. _"Sam, get visual contact. Tom warm up our guns, and alert the Marines that this may not be practice after all. Oh and contact HQ." Devon turned the engines vertical and cut some power, getting lower to the ground.

"Sir? Visual is confirmed by satellite. It's a damaged Phantom." Said Sam, as the weapons monitors flicked on in their visors.

"Damn. From last week?" Asked Devon as Tom, finished with his previous task, walked through the doorway to the bay.

"Probably, sir"

Devon set the ship on hover and went back to the bay to relive Tom, who sounded like he was having trouble making them believe this wasn't a prank.

He walked to a locker on the side wall without a word, and opened it up. He then pulled out the coupling-mounted rocket-launcher and installed it at the bay door. Then he walked to the wall closest to the newly mounted gun and pulled open a few inset containers before he found the one he was looking for. He pulled out three rockets, and loaded them into the three barrels of the launcher. Then he turned and explained what was going on to the Marines. A few recruits, whom had only seen battle for the first time last week, were nervous, but the veterans were clearly excited about kicking some Covies when they were down. He said that they did not have permission to engage yet. And that he would call Commander Igneous.

When he walked back into the cockpit, a flustered Tom tapped the side of his cheek where his microphone was and held up four fingers. Devon switched the channel on his mic to four, and gave Tom the signal to get off the channel.

"-And another thing! When I was in the marines you had to wait for a specialist to make contact with your commander, and it wasn't to PRANK HIM!"

"Um, Commander Igneous?"

"Oh, it's you. What do you want? And why do you spend the payroll on people like that Tim feller'?"

"Tom, sir. Sir I really don't have time for this. We've found a downed Phantom." While he was saying this, Tom pushed a paper into his hands. "Yessir, I know this is the time that you take a n-… Nosir, I would not interrupt if it wasn't an emergency… I know it still has crew…_BECAUSE IT'S STILL GIVING OFF HEAT A WEEK AFTER IT WAS SHOT DOWN_! ...Yessir, I'm sorry I hurt your feelings… Look, here's what I know; it's immobile. It has no weapons on the ship that work…" Devon said, reading off the paper, "And I'm assuming the Covenant are attempting to fix the communications to call in a capital ship to kill us all. Do we have permission to engage? What? ... Oh, three Grunts, a Jackal, and two Elites are what showed up on the satellite scan. … Yessir, it **is** very amusing that it goes 1, 2, 3. Do we have permission to engage sir? Green light? Fantastic, thank you sir." He hung up. _How that man got to be a commander I will never know_.

After dealing with his _eccentric_ commander, Devon looked at the data in his hands in more detail. _Okay,_ he thought, _the Phantom's crash cut a swathe into the mountain, so if we get the snipers up here, then we can cover the entire 'valley'. Then we can have the demolitions up here above the Phantom, and they blow it up, then the rest of the assault force comes up the 'valley' and cleans up the rest. No sweat. _

While trying to remember if those were famous last words or not, Devon handed the information sheet to Sam for review, and double-checked to make sure that the Covenant position was given to HQ. From there it would be sent out to all four squads in the platoon, and one would probably be sent to collect the scientists. Due to protocol, all non-military personnel must be evacuated from the combat zone. It wasn't really necessary this time, because the Phantom crashed far enough away from the scientist's site, but protocol is protocol. Any UNSC ships in the area would be automatically given the heads-up, and told to bounce the signal back to Earth.

Devon looked at the digital map over Sam's shoulder after he confirmed the base received the location of the Phantom. There was a small area between the forest area and the beginning of the Phantom's skid. Those things can really slide far for a dropship. He then slid back the door between the cockpit and the bay and was pleasantly surprised to see that the marines had their gear ready, and were painting their and their buddies faces for the strike. Stealth wasn't really an issue, but some liked it, and others appreciated the distraction.

Devon motioned for them to sit on the floor of the aircraft, so they could discuss the plan in detail.

"Okay, Marines listen up. The Covenant are effectively disabled right now, and if we strike them now, we can prevent them from calling in reinforcements. From what I can discern, one of our Anvil IIs or an Ardent V missile hit them in the ass, forcing them into the mountain. Their slide seemed to have taken off the bottom turrets, so that's one less thing to worry about. So far, there are six surviving personnel. A Jackal, couple of Elites, and a few Grunts. But do not underestimate them. Even though there are only six, they are still well-armed religious fanatics, and nothing is more dangerous than that. Fire-Team Beta will be hot-dropped onto this ridge here, to keep us informed on their movements, and provide covering fire. Alpha and Charlie will be let off here, and will take the Warthog to this point, and wait for everyone else to get in position. Sergeant, I want you with Alpha, most of them are recruits, and they need a little inspiration. Delta will be dropped above the Phantom once engagement begins. They haven't seen us and they don't know we're coming. This should be target practice with targets that bleed. Got all that uploaded to your visors? Excellent. Alpha-2, and Beta-2, activate your recorders, and everyone, get ready to fight."

"You heard the LT boys, get your asses in gear! Peterson, get on the turret, Rolands, your driving." Barked Sergeant Anderson. "You take care of my boys, sir. And don't kill all the Covies at once."

After the flight plan was set into the computer, the lieutenant turned and watched the marines load up. Since the Warthog was strictly a three-seater, six people had trouble sitting comfortably on it. Two sat up front, one in the driver seat, one in the passenger seat; in this case the passenger was Sergeant Anderson, and then one on the gun in the back. This time two people sat on the leg-up bars on the sides of the vehicle. The last marine sat behind the Gauss-Rifle that the gunner was on, legs dangling a foot above the ground.

After watching this, Devon turned back towards the cockpit, this time leaving the bay door open. He also grabbed one of the demolitions men from Delta and stationed him on the bay rocket launcher. Now that six men were off the ship, as well as a 3.5 ton vehicle, she went much faster, and handled differently.

As they got closer to the mountain, Tom stepped out into the troop-bay, and signaled for Beta team to get ready. Beta team was a two-man team of snipers, normally one spotting while the other was sniping. But in this case, they opted for the 'Auto-Spot', a device created by SNAT (a SNiper Armament Technicians Company) that plugged into the rifle's Oracle scope, and fed off its power source. It automatically tracks, finds, and helps you shoot targets. All this means that they both can shoot, and double the effective kills. As veteran snipers, they were well practiced in the 'hot-drop', or dropping troops while slowing down as little as possible. This was practiced a lot in the Advanced Marksman's Academy on Reach. Before the Covenant glassed the planet, that is.

Since they would be dropped onto a mountain, they would exit the aircraft while it is kicking up dust and rocks on the top of the mountain, in order to mask their drop. This would also be helped by the fact that when they jumped, any Covenant that might be watching the Pelican would be staring into the sun when they jumped. But once they jumped, they weren't in the clear. They still had to wear coolant vests to mask their thermal signature, and sniper's moss, to break up their outline on the hill.

"Betas one and two turn on your recorders." Devon said.

"Roger." Was the response from the snipers.

Just before the base of the mountain the snipers were to be dropped on was reached, six plasma bolts came out of the tree line at the beginning of the skid. Devon Pulled back on one throttle and pushed forward on the other, causing the Pelican to slide while turning over the top of the mountain, missing the drop, while two shots impacted on the metal, flaking the paint.

"DAMN! All fire-teams be advised. There is one plasma turret on the tree line, repeat, one plasma turret and it is hot." Devon said on the squad channel. When the Pelican finished doing the full turn, Devon told Beta to jump on his signal.

"NOW!" he yelled into the microphone. He felt the speed increase slightly as the snipers jumped from the bird. "Delta-Three, open fire on the estimated position of the turrets when in range." He said to the door gunner.

"Yessir!"

"Sam, what got hit?"

"The first shot impacted on the side of the bay, and the other one came under our tail and melted our jammer, sir."

"They don't have any radios, right, so we don't need the jammer."

At this point, Devon heard a sound like a fast wind being blown through a small hollow tube, and a mini-screen started tracking the rocket's progress. Devon was concentrating on flying, so he ignored the screen. Then he heard the distant echo of an explosion.

"Direct hit sir, turret is confirmed as wasted." Sam reported.

"Excellent" He said. "Beta Team, come in, this is Seirra-Echo-Two-Niner."

"Beta Team here."

"Are you in position?"

"Yes sir."

"What can you see?"

"That you were off by three Grunts, sir. And tell Geoff that that shot earned him a beer. Do we have a prioritized target list?"

"As always Corporal; Hunters, Elites, Jackals, Grunts."

"Yes sir. We are locked onto one of the elites. We think the other is inside the Phantom, sir. And be advised, that shot woke everyone up."

"Roger that. Seirra-Echo-Two-Niner out." Devon spun the channel dial on his communicator. "Sergeant Anderson, come in, this is Sierra-Echo-Two-Niner."

"Yes sir?" Came the reply from the sergeant.

"What is your ETA?"

"We're hanging back on the edge of the clearing, but we're here."

"Excellent. All squads, you may fire at will, clear to engage." And Devon turned the Pelican around as he said this, and flew over the phantom, coming to a halt above the mountains and lost altitude. Then he felt Deltas One and Two jump from the aircraft, and turned around to lend his chain gun to the conflict. So far one Elite and the Jackal were down, the other sniper's shot only took down the shield on the second Elite, and the Jackal must have been hit with the Gauss. Alpha and Charlie were looking for the three grunts, when three rockets were fired from the hilltop and the back of the Pelican. Two impacted on the surface of the Phantom, and one went into a hole created by the skid, and detonated.

It was beautiful. It hit the main fuel line of the Phantom, exploding that whole section outward. Then as the fire spread along the fuel line, white-hot lines were traced across the surface of the Phantom. When these reached the engines, there was a brief implosion, and the plating on the Phantom buckled inward, then it all exploded outward, in a brilliant blue explosion tinted with green. Then it exploded again, as the lines reached the fuel tank. And then the rain started.

They had to land the Pelican, because when it's raining alien engine parts, you don't know what's going to be sucked into your turbines. They also loaded up the Warthog while they were on the ground, and stepped inside the bay to debrief. They couldn't send a transmission to the base right now, because of all the metal floating down.

"Good job! Beers are on me when we get back!" said Devon. "Now, what did we do wrong?"

At that moment, Tom shuffled in awkwardly, back from inspecting the Phantom, with a cylindrical object parallel to his neck. The energy sword flashed to life and the Elite behind Tom de-cloaked.

"_You did not kill all of your prey." _It said.

The Marines as one stood up and pulled out their sidearms. When they did this, the Elite brought the sword closer to his neck, singeing the flesh a bit.

"Let him go, you bastard." Devon said evenly.

"_I am the arm of the Prophets, the instrument of the gods, and I will be the one to destroy the pitiful race of shaved apes you call humans! For I am Orne-_" There was sound like a sock full of pudding hitting a brick wall. And the elite collapsed in a heap as the energy sword clicked off. Sam stepped around behind the dead Covie, holding a Battle Rifle in her hands.

"Moron." She said. As she stepped over the catatonic private, she threw the rifle to a marine from Fire-Team Charlie. "You dropped this."


End file.
